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I'm still furious about the sled dogs

<p>I don’t know about you, but I’m still mad. And it’s not just flickering embers, it’s a hot flare of anger that threatens to jump the firewall. I’m mad about the dogs.</p>

I don’t know about you, but I’m still mad.


And it’s not just flickering embers, it’s a hot flare of anger that threatens to jump the firewall.


I’m mad about the dogs.


I’m mad that someone thinks sled dogs are just excess inventory, to be shot, stabbed and buried in a mass anonymous grave.


I’m mad that the guy responsible for killing the sled dogs even thought it was an option. If they were people, he would have given them notice. Man’s best friend gets a bullet in the head.


I’m mad because the various authorities aren’t co-operating to get to the bottom of an unspeakable crime. Instead, they’re fussing about the confidentiality of documents and jurisdiction.


Meanwhile, out there somewhere near Whistler, buried under the snow, is a lonely grave full of beautiful, murdered animals who should be exhumed, reburied with honour as the martyrs of human arrogance.


I’m mad because some people claim this is an isolated incident when there are numerous reports that sled dog “culls” are all too common. Check out the Animal Legal Defense Fund for a collection of stories about tossing unwanted puppies in a nearby creek, bludgeoning excess puppies with an axe handle, other “culls” of old, injured or unwanted dogs.


I’m mad because no one can spell. They keep referring to “cull” when the correct term is “kill” or more accurately, “murder.”


I’m mad because the hardest thing I have ever had to do is put down two of my very best friends, Mable and Cleo, because they were old and full of cancer. I held their noble heads in my lap as the vet put them to sleep. I cried like a fool and I thanked them for allowing me into their lives, and I cannot believe anyone in their right (or even their wrong) mind could ever execute a single dog, never mind 100, one after another.


I’m mad because I’ve got blood on my hands, too. I eat animals; I wear animals; I exploit animals in ways in which I’m not even aware. I’m sentimental about dogs, but I obviously don’t give a damn about chickens, pigs, cows, and whoever keeps my feet warm and my pants up.


I’m mad because this guy who killed the dogs is a poster boy for animal cruelty. He allows us to feel superior, which may be good for our self-esteem but does nothing to protect our fellow creatures.


I’m mad because tomorrow, nothing’s going to change. You know it, but the dogs don’t. The poor pooches are still happy to see us.

 
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